


Thank You

by kitogic



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Other, Trauma, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitogic/pseuds/kitogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey Warden Atrissa Surana arrives back at camp after killing the son of the Arl at Redcliff. She's grief stricken and hopeless, wanting nothing more than to stop existing. Suddenly, Alistair appears and a shit storm ensues. </p>
<p>TW: Child death mention</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> Yet again, I astound my audience with my creative and original story Titles. 
> 
> I don't know why I do this to myself; these hurt me to write as much as they hurt you to read. That is assuming that I'm even half as good as I really hope I am. I hope this isn't that bad. Send help. 
> 
> If anyone wants, I might make a second half to this. I'm not sure, though.

Atrissa sat there, shoulder pressed to the moss covered stones that made up the alcove where they were camped. She was on the ground, knees pulled to her chest as she hugged herself tightly. She felt so numb; she couldn't get the image of the boy out of her head. Connor. He was just a child. She screwed her eyes shut. He was so small, so young. Had he been taken to the Circle, like he should have been, he would still be alive now. If his mother hadn’t been so selfish, her baby would be alive. Atrissa gasped, finding it hard to claim air. The way Isolde had screamed, her voice full of agony and terror, still scraped at her eardrums. The way it broke, strained from seeing her son lie dead before her, his small form battered and bloody. The small elf clasped her hand over her mouth as she retched, bile rising in her throat. She felt so, so sick. She couldn’t stop imagining how he broke under her attack, the demon finally gone. That fucking demon.

Atrissa sobbed, biting down hard on her lip to stay quiet. She was far away from her companions, but she didn’t want them to know. She couldn’t be weak now, not after everything they’d gone through. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop seeing Connor. She wanted to scream. Scream until her throat was raw and bloody. That was more than she deserved. She bit hard on her lip until she tasted iron. It hurt like a bitch, but she didn’t care. She wanted to hurt. It was better than the agonizing guilt that tore away at her insides. 

“You killed Connor.” Atrissa’s blood ran cold. No. No no no. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to push his voice away. She couldn’t do this. Not now. 

“You killed him. A little boy. How could you do that?” Alistair’s voice was harsh with anger. The pale haired elf felt the nausea again, and she had to force herself to stay at least a little calm. She couldn’t be weak.

“I didn’t enjoy it, Alistair,” was her cold response. The voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to her. So harsh and sharp, it sounded wrong. So wrong.

“You could have let the Arlessa sacrifice herself,” Alistair's voice was raw with pain.”Lady Isolde is the one who started all of it, isn’t she?” This was all too much. Hearing him so distraught only added to the weight that was crushing her shoulders. “Alistair,” Atrissa whispered, voice still hard but barely audible. 

“Blood magic or no, if one of them had to die it should have been her!” Stop. Over and over, that word played in her mind. Stop, just stop. Sensations blended together, vision blurred, as she tried to figure out what to say. She wasn’t even listening to him at this point. At the edges of her consciousness, she picked out, “This is the Arl’s son we’re talking about here. What do you think he’ll say when we revive him?” Alistair’s voice was dripping with venom, something that terrified Atrissa. She had never seen him like this, not even after Ostagar. She need him now, more than ever, and she was terrified at the idea that she may have lost him.

“I don’t really care what he says.” The words spilled from her mouth, deadpan in delivery. She wasn’t even thinking, she just spoke. Her body was rejecting everything, from the contents of her stomach to the idea of having to face the father of the child she had murdered.

“I just don’t know how you could do it, how you could make that decision!” His volume was rising as was his pitch. Please stop yelling. By the Maker, just fucking stop.

Before she could stop herself, her head snapped up and she glared at him. He stopped mid sentence, eyes wide. She knew he could now clearly see how red her face was, and how wet her cheeks were. 

“Alistair, I killed a child!” The cry ripped from her throat before she could do anything. Her voice was hoarse and broken, her emotional dam completely breaking as her pain flowed freely. She knew that she had cried out loud enough for the whole of camp to hear, but right now that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was alive when a little boy should have been instead. 

She should be dead. She sobbed freely, hugging herself tightly. Her mangled sobs echoed off of the alcoves walls. She felt too much and nothing at all all at once. Flashes of Connor’s broken form ran behind her eyelids once more and a choked cry made its way past her lips. Had she looked up, she would see Alistair approaching her. She would have seen the pained expression on his face, the way his shoulders slumped as if he had the weight of Thedas on his shoulders, which was a burden he did indeed carry along with Atrissa. Being the last of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden was horribly taxing both physically and emotionally for both of them. 

He sat down next to her silently. For once, he had nothing to say. They just sat there, her shoulder pressed to his arm. She had never felt smaller than she did in that moment. She was just a stupid elf mage from the Circle who didn’t know how the world really worked. She had been foolish enough to believe that there was a line that she would never cross. She thought she could make it through this Blight without suffering. She was so, so stupid. She caused a family to lose their baby, she had made it so a mother had to look upon the form of her dead child. 

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Those words were so jarring, so wrong, that Atrissa’s head whisked toward Alistair. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes trained on his own feet. “It was a demon. That thing you killed wasn’t Connor. You killed that thing, not a boy.” That didn’t make any sense.

“You were there, you were fighting right next to me,” Atrissa replied hoarsely. “You saw exactly what… what I did.” Alistair simply shook his head. “I saw you, attacking and killing a desire demon.” He leaned into Atrissa, putting a warm weight on her shoulder. “You were doing your job.” She knew he was trying his hardest to comfort her, but a bitterness built in the pit of her stomach. 

“So it’s my job to kill, even if it’s a child?” She spat, unable to look at him. She wanted to move away, to distance herself from him, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually do it. How could he change his tune so quickly? Was he not just yelling at her for killing the Arl’s son? How she had murdered a child? Yet now he says that it wasn’t a child, but just a demon with a child’s form? It just didn’t make sense. She could feel how tense Alistair was beside her, but he didn’t attempt to move away either. 

“Listen. You made a very hard decision, one I’m not sure I could make,” he said quietly.. “And knowing the fact that… that it hurt you like this… Triss, you aren’t a bad person.” His voice softened, so much so that it hurt Atrissa’s heart. This time, she didn’t hold back. She cried, messy and ugly. How could she not be bad, when she felt so horrible? She cried, finally resting her head on his shoulder. He rested his .n her’s, closing his eyes. She knew deep down that he was right, that there was truth to his word. But it was just so hard to accept.

“When I came to you, I was so angry that I couldn’t think straight,” he said softly. “I just… I was hurting too. I’m… sorry.”

Atrissa shook her head vigorously, biting her lip. “N-n-no, no, no, I should… I should have…” She wasn’t sure where she was going with that train of thought. Her mouth moved on its own, something that usually happened when she was stressed and exhausted. That was truly a word to describe how she felt. She was exhausted, in every sense of the word. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep forever, even though she knew that was impossible. The elf was surprised when Alistair placed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Hey, hey, now, why don’t we just rest for a bit, yeah?” He murmured into her hair. That idea was so inviting that she almost wanted to take it. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t. She closed her eyes, curling further in to Alistair. The Warden wrapped his arms around her protectively, pulling her close to his chest. His armor was hard against her, but right now she didn’t care. She was here, she was alive, she was with Alistair. Her companions were alive because she made a decision and stuck with it. It was a hard truth to swallow, but she knew eventually she would. 

“Alistair?” Atrissa whispered,. 

“Yes?” Was his gentle reply.

“Thank you.”


End file.
